


It's Oh So Quiet

by Zelha



Series: Rise Like a Phoenix [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Neglect, Darcy Lewis is Tony Stark's Daughter, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Parent Tony Stark, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 16:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5133872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zelha/pseuds/Zelha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one night stand, for a nihilist moral destitute, is quite a common, everyday thing. But when the moral destitute in question is Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist asshole, well… let’s say that it becomes more. It’s always more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Oh So Quiet

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [We'll Run Like We're Awesome](https://archiveofourown.org/works/771491) by [themonkeycabal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/themonkeycabal/pseuds/themonkeycabal). 



> My first published fanfiction in this fandom.  
> I’ve lurked through the Darcy-related tags on Ao3 for a while now, and I’ve been putting together a few things, but this is my first completed piece. Bear with me for a while, because this is part of a series.

**It's Oh So Quiet**

   
Saint Tropez. Aspen. Ibiza. Saint Barts. The Bahamas. Monaco. Las Vegas. He had seen them all, had partied in them all.

He really should have seen this coming.

Gorgeous legs going for miles, a rack that should have been forged by the hands of a god, a sharp smile... needle marks hastily concealed with foundation in her forearms, glassy eyes and hands that never stopped moving, trying to get his attention in the LA Gala...

And the knowledge that this particular Miss Thang had tampered with his scotch. Lovely.

But hey, Tony was a man. And since she was going through the trouble, maybe he could indulge. After all, she was basically throwing herself at him.

After the deed, he watched between narrowed eyes how the only woman he was going to hate in the future picked up her clothes, raided his wallet and walked out of his room, barefooted.

So much for a nice breakfast and a half and half.

That very afternoon found him in his workshop, after he dropped off the blood sample in the Stark labs. If he was contaminated with something, he wanted to know first before flipping out. Plus, Rhodey would totally never let him live this down.

His paranoia hit its peak when the labs told him he had been dosed with a small portion of Rohypnol and Amphetamines. Strong enough to be susceptible to suggestion, but not enough for him to be knocked out. He guessed that the tolerance he had developed was something useful out of those earlier dabbles in controlled and forbidden substances. However, the loss of control was too much for him.

Plus, his father had ripped him a new one, verbally. MIT had never been the same afterwards.

\- X -

Now that he was alone - totally alone, thanks to Howard and his stupid running commentary of his poor life choices and the fact that he really couldn’t have Edwin drive them to the stupid Foundation Gala as it was, so crash they went - leaving him with Obadiah and his comforting words that always made him want to scream.

So, he fucked his way through models, actresses, and whatever skirt he wanted on the floor of his room.

And now he had to go and tell some Private Eye to keep tabs on this particular little bitch. His bullshit meter was tingling and something was certainly going to blow up, sooner than later.

\- X -

The blowout was a few months later, when the P.I. sent him a page about maternity clothes and visits to one of those Family Law sharks that abounded everywhere in good ol’ ‘Murica.

So, a paternity suit. Okay, he can run with it, given the fact that he had banged the chick it only took a few days with a DNA sample for his labs to come up with the results, so the suits usually went Can’t Touch This, like that awesome MC Hammer song. This was doable.

But then the bitch went AWOL. The P.I. was baffled, and the whole scheme fell through.

But, the Internet was starting to be a precious, precious thing so he could try and track her through her medical records. Maybe he could write up a search engine that could kick Google’s ass and basically do this kind of shit for him.

Up to the to do list it went.

\- X -

A few months later, the PI shot him an email. The bitch was hiding in Memphis, of all places, in a trailer park - he shuddered when he read that - and she had applied for social aids and was in and out of community rehab and support groups. Also, she was a known figure in the bar scene, getting booze and heroin for tricks.

Damn. Maybe the whole maternity schtick he was expecting didn’t pan out. All the better, then.

Morning found him under his latest hot rod, his hand around one of the last of Howard’s very appreciated and tasty Macallan Fine and Rare malt scotch. He always had said that he was going to drink that bottle whenever he found his Star Spangled pal to celebrate, so.

Or to mourn the righteous asshole with the spangled vibranium shield, who knows.

As he looked up to the hot rod’s finely tuned machinery, everything in place, fixed and completely overhauled and waiting to be unleashed on the road, he had to admit to himself that the idea of a spawn wasn’t so bad. If anything, it would be the perfect plan. To screw up a kid in the same way that Howard had screwed him up.

No, he couldn’t do that to a kid, no matter how snotty it was.

Jeez.

\- X -

The PI appeared in his office as soon as the board meeting from hell ended. He was tired, cranky, stressed and he was expecting answers from the latest fiasco from the secretarial pool, who was frantically pressing all the buttons on the printer while she kept checking him out.

Once he would have been lapping the attention up. But the missile designs were on a tight schedule if they wanted to keep the contract with the ARMY, so. No hanky panky until he delivered.

But the designs, and the airheaded bimbo, flew out of his mind when the PI showed him pictures of that one night stand, three years ago. The bitch that dared roofie him.

Truly, if she wanted the banging session she only needed to ask.

Focusing now. Well, the little tyke was clearly... _skinny_.

Jesus M. Christ.

-X-

One call to his father’s most trusted attorney: 15 minutes filled with rants, plus the promise of a stack of NDAs and the very strange silence from a man that always thought him a nihilistic asshole.

Private plane to Memphis with said attorney and the PI: 3 hours, 11 minutes in which the PI tried, mostly unsuccessfully, to break the bickering between the old attorney and Tony. Then he discovered the minibar and tried to drown his sorrow under a fine glass of whiskey.

Ride to the trailer park with two old farts that wanted to strangle him for his unusual rage attack when he reviewed the pictures again: 48 minutes.

The face of the bitch when her current pimp opened the door - if that can be called a door - of the trailer to three suited men with frowny faces: priceless.

Master Card didn’t have anything on Tony Stark’s wallet.

Said bitch tried, very hard, to stand up from the little rundown couch she was lying in. Her lack of clothes was resolved by the PI, who threw a disgusting looking blanket on her. A dirty needle plus an ampoule of something suspicious was next to her hand. Tony didn’t care.

He looked everywhere, until he found his quarry.

She was pale.

Dark hair matted in places, glazed eyes that blinked slowly at him in her obnubilate state, a dirty pink dress that clearly had seen better days. Cupid bow’s lips. Blue eyes.

_Maria Stark’s eyes._

The little girl whimpered when he crouched next to her pallet. Made of filthy blankets and towels, the tiny creature was too doped to cry out loud. Tony bit his lip and clenched his jaw when he noticed the puncture wounds on her little arms.

The PI found him a glass of water. A silk handkerchief was more than enough to clean the little face of grime and tear tracks.

Porcelain skin.

A broken doll.

The PI’s whispered prayer broke his inner musings. As the PI went outside to call the police and CPS, the old attorney joined him in the bedroom, very shocked at the sight of his old friend’s son taking his very expensive suit jacket off to wrap it around the fragile-looking child.

The wizened man’s face darkened when Tony silently pointed at the needle marks.

Needless to say, the old man knew his job very well. Tony felt vindicated when he pressed a gigantic stack of charges on the couple from there to Beijing, ensuring a very heavy sentence on the denatured mother, who ended up in Mark H. Luttrell Correctional Center when everything was said and done.

A bunch of NDAs widely distributed later, he was flying down to LA with the old man and the PI, who swore up and down that he didn’t know what the woman was doing to the poor little girl.

Well. It didn’t matter anymore.

\- X -

Several months later, a retired PI called to ask about the little girl they removed from her hazardous and abusive previous life. He invited the man to his new home in Malibu, overlooking the Pacific in an incredibly tall cliff. The man seemed a little intimidated with the floor-to-ceiling windows showing the ocean and its horizon. He didn’t care.

Rhodey exited the girl’s room with her in arms. Clean, healthy, with a little red dress that bespoke of care, and protection, and love. The PI seemed gratified that the little girl seemed restored from the sloth and the filth and the horrible treatment her own biological mother had put her through.

Stark had accompanied him to the door and his chauffeur, Happy, pulled in, waiting to drive him back to the airport.

“One more thing, Mr. Stark,” the man had paused at the threshold of his door. “What’s her name?”

Stark’s light amber eyes glowed in pride.

“Her name is Darcy Marie Stark,” he said softly. “I can’t thank enough for all your help, Sawyer.”

“...It was my entire pleasure.”

-XxX-

  
~ Tenna' ento lye omenta ~

**Author's Note:**

> \+ I had to troll in the Marvel DB for a Howling Commando that wasn’t exactly well known to serve my purpose of a bored PI who could handle a manic, self-destructive Tony Stark just after his parents (and Edwin Jarvis) were killed. I kind of thought about putting ol’ Jarvis on the case, but in the end I preferred some unknown person with a certain connection with Peggy Carter. Also, I don’t watch Agent Carter because it gets aired in my country with Spanish dubbing, and... no. Hell no.
> 
> \+ Regarding the MC Hammer song, I’m pretty sure that Rhodey was an influence in MIT while he was there with Tony. I regret nothing.
> 
> \+ I have been sitting on this work for a while, but I haven’t been able to get ahold of a beta. If any of you are interested, please, _please_ contact me! I have plenty of material that needs to be looked over due to the fact that English is not my mother tongue. 8D
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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